Crisis in Faith
by KESwriter
Summary: Spencer Reid has an unusual conversation with a young woman who claims to write fan fiction about him and she questions her reasons for doing so.


Rated K because it is harmless.

I own nothing.

Spencer Reid has an unusual conversation with a young woman who claims to write fan fiction about him and questions her reasons for why.

This is my craziest story to date. Please try to enjoy this piece of personal soul-searching.

Crisis of Faith

Spencer Reid woke up early on a Monday morning. It had been a difficult case and he still wasn't sleeping regularly. It was five-thirty in the morning so he decided to get up and head to work.

The Behavioral Analysis Unit bullpen was empty except for a young woman sitting at his desk. She had blond hair and was wearing a green polo shirt over khakis and was looking through his drawers. She smiled.

"I knew you still kept this," she said and pulled the old tabloid of him with Lila Archer.

Reid coughed to get her attention.

"Hi," she said brightly. "I've always wanted to talk to you and not just make you talk."

Reid looked at her uncertainly. She seemed to read his thoughts.

"Don't worry this is just a dream. You know one of those dreams where you think you've woken up but actually haven't."

"But I've never met you." he said.

"Because it's the imagination part of your brain working," she said.

"There is no specific part of the brain that controls imagination," he said.

She clapped her hands together once. "I knew that is why I used Google. I knew the article was accurate."

Reid was looking at her curiously. "I've never had a dream like this."

"Okay would you rather I told you the truth and said that you are currently part of a fan story I am writing for a fan website and also possibly a writers group?"

"That makes no sense at all," he said.

"Then how about the imagination dream thing?" she said.

"I'll play along then," he said with a sigh. "Who are you?"

She sat down in his chair and moaned. "That is the question I keep asking myself. Who am I as a writer when I'm not writing about you?"

"I am a character in your fan stories," he said slowly.

"Exactly! Thanks for catching on. You are a character but somehow you have gained more influence over my writing style than I ever imagined."

Reid took J.J's seat and moved next to her.

"So am I a book character or a TV character?"

"TV," she said. "I started with Harry Potter but then when I took a year off I borrowed stack of DVDs learned the mannerisms of your character mostly by heart. But I can tell you my first story I admit was rough. But I keep it up because one of my loyal reviewers likes it."

"You write stories about me," he said slowly. "I have to ask, what kind of stories?"

"Plot-heavy stories because I like plots and dialog but I can't seem to write a good villain though I've gotten better."

"Okay, what are the plots?"

"One involves you waking up in a semi-parallel universe where you never joined the team," she said counting on her fingers. "Another involves you facing one of your worst bullies when his son is kidnapped. And one of my latest favorites involves you having your death faked and naming your daughter Haley and it involves Jack protecting her. There is also a crazy Doctor Who crossover. Wow I sound like I'm shamelessly self-plugging here."

"Why are you here? Do you have a name even?"

"I'm no one really but you can call me Amanda," she pushed herself back from his desk. "Here is the problem Dr. Reid I can write a thousand words about you in two hours but I am afraid to write something without you in it."

"Why? Am I that important to you?" he asked

"Technically, to the outside world no. My best friend knows but she doesn't seem to care. She doesn't understand that the majority of my rapid typing at random hours is about you."

Amanda stood and began to pace the office. "What is wrong with me?" she practically shouted. "I love to write. It has been my passion since third grade when I had to write about a snowman and I wrote a short story instead of a poem like the teacher asked."

"Is fear of rejection holding you back?" Reid said surprising himself by how much he cared for a mental character in his head.

Amanda stopped and smiled. "You always care no matter what. Look I like the rest of the team find but you're different. I'm not as smart as you. I think there are more dimensions to your character to explore. Look they and all have traumas but I seem to like you the most and I can quite figure and why."

"Maybe you can relate to me more somehow?"

"I think that's my main reason," she said.

"But you enjoy it, so what's the problem?" he asked.

"Because fan fiction doesn't count in the real world. I have written at least eighty thousand words over three years that I'm proud of but so help me if I share it at a writer's group. Half the people wouldn't get it and the other half might but also wonder if I can do more."

"You're talking in circles right now you know," Reid said.

"I know isn't maddening?" she said. "I have so much support online when I write about you but fear is holding my imagination hostage. What if what I write is terrible or unoriginal?"

Reid stood up. "Amanda take my hand," he said.

"Why?" she asked. "You're a germaphobe."

"But there are no germs in dreams right?"

"I guess," she said and took his hand.

"Do you know what is beyond the door?" he asked pointing ahead.

"No because the show is shot from a different angle," she said.

"Take me through that door and into a different place. Anywhere you want. It just has to be a place you love. Can you do that?"

"I think so," she said closing her eyes.

"I'll guide you to the door," he said.

Reid was excited to see where the woman would take him.

He opened the door and they were in a tower. Amanda stood there as he looked around at the city by a body of water. He noticed there were palm trees on the coast. It was a sunny day. He looked down and there were signs leading to different places with foreign words written on them above English.

"We're in Ireland right? There is Gaelic writing on the signs. If I had to guess we're in Dublin."

Amanda nodded shakily and took a few steps forward. "I studied abroad here briefly. This is Martello Tower."

"The first setting for _Ulysses_ right?"

"Of course you probably read the book."

"Possibly," he said "but I can't imagine it the way you can."

"But what do I with it?" she said leaning on the half wall. "All I have are real life stories. I am afraid anything I write that is fictional won't do the place justice."

"You seem to think writing about me is doing me justice," he said standing next to her admiring the view.

"But you're different. Like I said writing fan fiction isn't real."

"Stop putting yourself down," he said. "If writing about me brings you joy do it. But don't deprive the world of this beauty. If you can write about me I think you can write anyone."

"Oh this is crazy," she said. "Now I think I'm putting words in your mouth."

"We keep talking in circles Amanda," he said. He saw the door back to the BAU was still there and it looked completely of place.

"I'm going to leave Amanda and I don't think you should follow me."

"But I'm in control here technically," she argued. "How can you leave a dream?"

"I think it is what you want me to do so in order to let go."

"How do you know that will help?" she said.

"Go enjoy the view while I return to my world," he said.

Amanda took a deep breath and a watched seagull fly by.

"Okay," she said.

Read opened the door and woke up.

He woke up barely remembering the dream he had. All he remembered was a flicker of an image of a seaside town. It suddenly gave him the urge reread _Ulysses_ a third time.

THE END

Author's Note:

This is not the end of me writing about Criminal Minds. It is basically a writing exercise I will be sharing with a group of people. I recommend Advil if this story gave you a headache.


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